


The Even Numbers

by WordsAblaze



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Family, Family Fluff, Gen, Growing Up Together, even number - centric, others might cameo, tags will be added as they're needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-02-28 15:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18759019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsAblaze/pseuds/WordsAblaze
Summary: The even numbers of the Umbrella Academy have a unique brotherly bond that runs deep and stays strong, no matter what life throws their way... Enjoy!





	1. Age 0

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is being written as a thank you to the lovely and kind Vera (Veraa2 on FFN) who helped out my friend and is just generally a really sweet and supportive person so shout out to her!
> 
> Also, this is more of an intro; it will hopefully get more exciting if all goes to plan :)

Empathy was one of the few things Reginald Hargreeves simply didn't have.

He did, however, have the desire to adopt - own - every child unexpectedly born on October 1st 1989 that demonstrated the potential to do great things, which meant that, soon enough, he was responsible for seven newborns.

He'd hoped for a lot more than seven but some were better than none so things progressed fairly quickly and only minimal fuss was made before the responsibility of seven new lives was given to his trustworthy android, Grace.

Names seemed trivial in his mind so he simply numbered them and placed them in the constant charge of Grace and Pogo, keeping his contact with them limited to monitoring their behaviour and biology for signs of powers or problems.

The first and easiest behaviour to note was the way attachments had clearly formed between several of the newborns. And the most significant of those attachments was the one between the even numbers.

The only one who'd have been able to tell you all about it was Grace.

If anyone had asked her, that is, beyond the superficial level Reginald Hargreeves did, she'd have told them how Number Four had quickly latched onto both Number Six and Number Two, consequently causing the two of them to bond as well.

She'd have explained to them how, on multiple occasions, the three of them had stopped crying as soon as they'd been placed in the vicinity of each other because the comfort of each other was inexplicably more potent than anything she could do.

She'd have smiled to herself when telling them that all the children under her care were beautiful and brilliant but even she'd have to admit there was something surreal and sincere about the way the even numbers had bonded.

That's not to say the others hadn't acted similarly - there was something to be said about Number Five and Number Seven's attachment and the apparent intensity of Number One and Number Three's bond had been quite a surprise - but Grace could point out the connection between the even numbers far better than the others.

There'd been many occasions when Number Six had been restless, twisting and turning, unable to stay still, but an hour with Number Four had always resulted in them both being quiet and hushed and even smiling if it was a good day.

Number Two had quickly developed the habit of clutching onto objects and fingers alike but Grace knew all she had to do to get said objects or fingers away from him was place Number Four next to him since they'd always, without fail, hold on to each other if they could.

When the children were a few months old, they'd started to gurgle and giggle and react in a way Grace had thought was both incredible and ridiculous.

They'd vaguely point at one another and produce sounds Grace couldn't begin to replicate with her synthetic vocal cords, communicating with each other and mimicking her whenever she asked them to do something.

The girls would giggle at an alarming rate but Number Six was almost at their level, smiling whenever he caught sight of anything outside the window - oh, how Grace wished Reginald had noted down the way he'd so adorably grin at flying birds.

As if they were connected, Number Four would pout every time Number Six was unamused by the birds and became quiet, both of them refusing to eat and Number Four even sticking his tongue out at Grace. It would have been endearing had it not been such a pain.

Grace had been quick to notice the way Number Two had figured out how to expertly babble, wasting no time before ordering his favourite brothers around. She hadn't been sure what he was ordering them to do but they seemed to accept it all the same, repeating sounds back to him and happily poking one another for hours.

Quite often, they'd try to keep poking her too.

When they turned six months old, Grace had a hard time getting them to do anything if they didn't agree with each other, especially since the three of them had developed what she could only call some sort of code between them.

While Number Six had decided sitting up was the extent to which he was comfortable moving, Grace had frequently been summoned by a distressed Number Four, who'd wasted no time before crawling around, exploring, experiencing various injuries, and seemingly trying to get her to fix Number Six.

She'd taken care of all of them as fairly as possible but even she couldn't deny that Number Two had spent the most time with her. Number One had been the first to attempt standing up but Number Two had been the one to stretch his tiny arms out at her time and time again because he wanted to walk and it didn't seem to tire him out as much.

If they hadn't been so young, Grace would have said Number Six used to adopt a look of sheer disapproval every time Number Four would find a pen and manage to draw on himself, scribbling patterns she couldn't understand but would quickly wash off so Reginald never noticed.

She had no right to complain but he never seemed to note down anything she'd watched most families make a record of during her research so she was never sure what exactly to tell him when he asked her for progress reports.

Usually, she'd report who'd been the most active and who'd grown the most, or other basic information that she sometimes thought a hospital would ask for, not a guardian. Of course, she'd also report which of the children had been the quietest and who'd been the most difficult as well, just in case he had any ideas for how to help them.

Either way, she'd never report any of the even numbers as the strongest or the bravest but she'd always hope they'd be the best at something more concrete and more rewarding than being attached to one another when they grew up.

Although, in her opinion, being good at being brothers was something to be proud of anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes, lmk if you spot any that need fixing :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Leave a kudos or comment?


	2. Age 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while but thank you to anyone who's read this! I hope you enjoy :)

Personal space had always been a slight issue for Number Four, right from the moment he’d grasped the concept of other people existing.

On their first birthday, Grace, using her limited knowledge of the occasion, had decided to make a small cake for the infants, blowing out most of the candles herself because all the children had wanted to reach for and hold the fire rather than get rid of it immediately.

Number Six had hated the fire with a burning passion. 

Grace had only asked him to blow out the candles before he’d frowned with as much intensity as a such a small child can and accidentally whacked Number Four in his attempt to get away from the flame.

It was as if that moment had flicked a switch inside Number Four’s mind.

From that moment on, he would constantly keep hold of Number Six, making sure they were physically connected in one way or another as often as he could. It made changing their clothes or putting them to bed very difficult but Grace didn’t mind in the slightest. 

Number Six had apparently been gifted with the patience of a virtuous saint because he never complained about Number Four’s constant attempts at physical contact and quite often, he initiated it first, making grabby hands with an unusually knowing look.

It seemed to catch on with the other children very quickly and soon Number Two was following Grace around the house with Number Four first crawling next to him and eventually wobbling right behind him. 

Number Five and Number Seven were soon making their way around the rooms by holding onto the walls as well as each other, occasionally being interrupted by an eager and somewhat clumsy Number Four barrelling into them.

It became common for Number Four to trail behind Number Three and point out how pretty her newest outfit was by yelling “flower!” or “I want!” in Grace’s general direction. 

None of the children were particularly verbal but they were mostly happy to indulge in ostensibly random conversations when Number Four started them out of the blue, much to what Grace would assume was her amusement. 

She’d taught them colours as soon as possible because colour-coding their clothes made her life so much more efficient and they seemed to understand that a particular colour belonged to them. 

Number Four would always mix them up for some reason, pointing to a white wall and proudly declaring “blue!” or patting a red sofa and announcing “small white!” despite her corrections. Little did she know that he wasn’t actually making mistakes because he wasn’t talking about the furniture in the first place. 

Her colour system didn’t really matter much when it came to their possessions anyway; either they weren’t bothered with what exactly they were given in favour of just being excited about something new or they accepted that Number Four would eventually make them drop whatever it was and take his hand instead anyway. 

Despite his reluctance to make conversation, Number Two would toddle towards Grace and slowly mumble words like ‘water’ or ‘lift up’ when any of the even-numbered brothers wanted something, the other two standing behind him with sheepish or hopeful looks.

It wasn’t unusual for everyone to hear Number Four declaring things like ‘sunny!’ or ‘bad cloud!’ in the mornings when they all grudgingly woke up. 

Number Five speedily clocked on to ‘quiet!’ and, for a while, his irritated grumble would be heard after anyone said anything in the house. That was definitely far more annoying than it was cute but Grace managed, as she did with everything else they threw her way.

Most commonly, they literally threw various objects her way whilst shouting out their names, as if gifting her with her own possessions. Well, with Mr Hargreeves’ possessions, but she was the one who looked after them all so they were basically hers anyway. 

The strangest part about that time of their lives was the way Number Six would simply lie down without warning and Number Four would use him as a pillow, the two of them having what, aside from the undecipherable words and a ridiculous amount of nouns, sounded like a mature conversation. 

“Flooring time,” Number Six would warn before just letting himself fall.

“And pillow me,” Number Four would reply, falling rather harshly onto Number Six’s stomach and stretching his small legs out as far as they could go. 

And then they’d exchange hums and nouns and streams of mutterings before eventually falling asleep, at which point Number Two would come up to her and tug on her sleeve.

“Brothers asleep,” he’d mumble, letting her know she was to remove the other two from the floor before someone tripped over them. 

Number Six would be oblivious to the world once he was asleep but Number Four would whine if she picked him up, and he’d only go quiet again once he was wrapped up in his blankets. 

He was the only one who paid any attention to which blanket he had and made it very clear he needed a different one for each day of the week, which meant that he’d swap with a different sibling every day.

None of them seemed to mind, getting used to the routine of swapping despite not yet having any kind of concept as to what a routine actually was. 

“Night,” Number Four would whisper to Grace as she’d plant a kiss on his forehead.

“It’s ‘goodnight’, Number Four,” Grace always replied, politely confused.

“Maybe,” Number Four would remind her before yawning.

Number Six would often act similarly, either agreeing or disagreeing with her when she wished him goodnight. 

The others went to bed without any kind of confusion, usually too tired to do more than vaguely hum back. Although Number Two always hugged her before dozing off and Number Seven would kiss her cheek in return before giggling herself to sleep. 

Just from the way they went to bed, Grace could tell they would all be very different people when they grew up and she wasn’t sure if she would be able to take care of them all when that happened. 

But still, she was happy to humour them as long as it made them happy. After all, their happiness was directly proportional to her own happiness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!!
> 
> I know it's a bit slow but they're too young to have any exciting adventures yet, hopefully I'll get round to it soon :) 
> 
> Leave a kudos or comment?


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